


A Man To Chase

by Miko



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life would be a lot easier if my inside just matched my outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man To Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Reversebang](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/9128) by Rinnia. 



> Written for the Reversebang challenge on the [Original Big Bang](http://originalbigbang.dreamwidth.org) community. The art that inspired the story is Rinnia's lovely [image](http://rinnia.livejournal.com/350062.html).

"Miss Chase?"

In the middle of applying my blue lip paint, I didn't want to turn, but I could see the doorway well enough in my mirror. The assistant stage manager was hovering there, clutching her clipboard to her chest. Most of the stage crew didn't really know how to deal with me, especially when I'm 'neither here nor there', as one of them once put it.

I hoped that with time and familiarity they'd be able to accept me as a person, instead of worrying about what gender box to stick me into.

"Another present from my admirer, Lindsay?" I smiled at her, the charming expression I'd practiced for hours in front of a mirror. It seemed to work, her shoulders relaxing as she eased her death grip on the clipboard.

"I'm afraid so, Miss Chase," she said, stepping aside to reveal the enormous bouquet of white and red roses behind her. She wasn't holding it because when I say 'enormous', I mean 'big enough that it needed a trolley to roll it around'.

I actually paused with the brush a scant inch from my lips, and turned in my seat to see it better. Perhaps the mirror had warped the reflection. If anything, it looked even bigger looking at it straight on.

"Oh, my." I hesitated, searching for better words to describe my feelings, but if there were any, they escaped me. I settled for saying it again. "Oh, _my_."

"He's very persistent," Lindsay said, sounding almost apologetic. As if it was in some way her fault that the theatre's most generous patron had set his sights on me and refused to take 'no' for an answer. "And to be fair to him, any other performer who resisted him _would_ only be playing hard to get, trying to get more expensive and valuable gifts out of him."

It was true that most actresses, if not all, were effectively high class prostitutes. Oh, they were never referred to as such, not in genteel circles, but everyone knew that the demimondaine were aiming not just for stardom, but to become the mistresses of the wealthy patrons of the theater. For most of them, it was their only hope of ending their life somewhere other than in the gutter they'd come from, so I could hardly hold it against them. 

In truth, if I could have, I might even have joined them. Being the lover of a wealthy man, given a lovely flat to live in and showered with priceless jewels and pretty dresses and expensive foods... it didn't seem like such a bad life to live. Better than scraping by on the scant money paid by the theatre for my performances. Too bad any man attracted to the beautiful woman I was on the outside would be horrified the moment he got under my skirts. 

"He must be getting desperate," I joked, trying to lighten the situation. "I doubt he's ever had someone resist this long. Coming up with more elaborate ways to woo me must be putting quite a strain on him."

"Well, that's the thing," Lindsay said. Her brows were furrowed, and for once the confused look wasn't directed at me. "Mr. White has never pursued one of the actresses before. They call him 'Pure White', because his reputation is absolutely spotless. Which isn't to say none of the girls has set her cap at him before, quite the opposite. But he's never responded."

"Aha. So, because I've never shown any interest, I become the challenge," I sighed. "Maybe I should just fling myself at him; that ought to chase him off fast enough."

"If it backfires though..."

"I wasn't intending to actually try it," I assured her with a little laugh. Just the thought gave me chills. My livelihood depended on my audience believing the fantasy I created for them. For all that the stage crew were wary of me, they'd kept my secret as fanatically as I did myself. Probably because I was one of the highest-grossing entertainers, every show sold out, but loyalty was loyalty no matter the reason for it. 

Not only that, but no matter whether he was a 'gentleman' or not, any man who realized he'd been hitting on and attracted to another male might well fall into a rage. Especially if it happened in private, and the man had the money to make the mess go away after the fact. 

Even if the 'man' he'd been hitting on was a woman in everything but equipment.

"You might as well bring them in," I said, turning back to the mirror to complete my preparations. I didn't have much time left before curtain. "At least they smell nice." 

"Miss Chase? You might want to take a closer look before you accept them," Lindsay said, and there was something odd about her tone of voice.

Curious and wary, I stood and made my way over to the door. Halfway there I gasped and stopped, hand hovering an inch from my newly painted lips. Draped over a group of the red roses was a silver necklace set with several carats worth of gems that I _hoped_ were garnets, but was very afraid might be rubies. "Oh, my," I said for the third time, once again at an utter loss for words.

We both stood there staring at the necklace for a moment, before I looked up and met her gaze. I felt faintly panicked. "I can't accept that," I said. "It must be worth a small fortune. Flowers are one thing, but if I take _that_..."

"He'll take it as a sign that you're accepting his suit, and expect repayment," she agreed. "Shall I send them back?"

"Oh god, yes." I waved frantically at the thing. "With my sincerest regrets, et cetera, et cetera. You know all the things to say."

"Yes, of course." She nodded, and turned to go. Now that she'd been given a purpose, she seemed more certain of her course.

I wished I felt the same. Looking longingly at the necklace, I couldn't help but sigh. If I'd been a different woman, I'd have accepted it in a heartbeat.

If I'd been a woman at all.

* * *

The heady sound of the applause still rang in my ears as I made my way back to my dressing room. They'd called me back for not just one but _three_ curtain calls, cheering 'brava' and whistling all the while. It was true that burlesque and cabaret performances were hardly on the level of 'fine arts', but sometimes I wonder if they don't bring more real pleasure to the audience than any unintelligible opera or Shakespearean masterpiece.

Still high on the thrill of admiration, I sailed into the dressing room. Two steps in I came to an abrupt halt as the overwhelming scent of roses hit me.

Staring at my vanity table in dismay, I tried to make myself believe that I was seeing things. I'd told Lindsay to return the bouquet, so it couldn't possibly be taking up all the space on the vanity. Taking a few tentative steps closer, I heaved a sigh of relief as I saw that it was _only_ the roses. There was no sign of the glamorous and undoubtedly expensive necklace. She'd sent back the part of the gift I couldn't afford to accept, but either she'd figured I might as well keep the flowers, or the patron had insisted. Harmless, either way.

Smiling, I leaned over until the silk of the petals tickled my cheeks, inhaling the heady fragrance up close. The mirror made it look as if there were twice as many roses, and there had already been an astonishing number to start with. The effect was like being buried in the beautiful flowers.

"I have never met a woman so appreciative of gifts and yet so loath to accept them."

The unexpected deep voice startled me into shrieking. I jumped back from the flowers, one gloved hand pressed to my heart, which was pounding so hard it made the fine chiffon covering my bosom vibrate. Whirling, I searched the tiny room until I found him, tucked away in the back corner between two wardrobe racks. He'd dragged a chair in from somewhere, and though he lounged comfortably in it, his fine silk suit looked out of place next to the cheaper fabrics of my costumes. He had a silk tophat perched on his lap, and a walking cane with what I was pretty sure was a pure gold head leaning against the chair.

Surely there was only one person he could be. "Mr. White?"

Though he tilted his head in acknowledgement, his eyes never left mine. "Miss Chase. Are you attempting to see how far you can push me? Or are you simply trying to live up to your name?"

"My name?" I repeated, baffled by the comment. 

He smiled slowly, and it was not the polite smile of a gentleman. It was wicked and heated and promised sinful things, and suddenly my heart was pounding for a different reason entirely. Oh, if only I could say 'yes' and let the man seduce me as he so clearly wanted to. Perhaps he would tire of me in a week or a month or a season, but I would come out of it the richer for the experience. With a face and body like that, and that hint of wickedness promising mischief in and out of the sheets, he would probably be a lover I could happily embrace.

"Amanda Chase," he said, as if simply stating my stage name should have explained everything. When I only shook my head in confusion, he smirked and clarified. "A man to chase. I assumed it was a deliberate pun."

And now the heart pounding was back to fear as a root cause. My birth name of 'Adam' had no direct female form, but 'Amanda' had seemed the closest and simplest variation I could think of. Chase was my real surname, but I had never strung them together in quite that way. Had he realized my secret? How could he have? Unless one of the stage hands had given me away after all...

Laughing, trying not to sound too shrill, I attempted to salvage the situation. "Your gifts show exquisite taste, if somewhat overwhelming enthusiasm, but your attempts at flirtation leave a little something to be desired. It's hardly flattering to a woman to have a suitor refer to her as 'a man' in any context."

One eyebrow rose, the expression sardonic rather than surprised. "Allow me to, if you'll forgive a pun of my own, cut to the chase. A man of my position is expected to follow certain rules of society. Some of those rules can be bent or broken, often at the expense of one's reputation, but costing nothing more damning than that. However, other lines one approaches at one's peril. You've heard the recent news about that Irish playwright?"

I puzzled over it for a moment before realizing what he must be referring to. "Oscar Wilde's imprisonment?" The famous writer and poet had been put through his third trial for 'gross indecency', and this time he'd been convicted and sentenced to two years of hard labour. It was horrifying to most of the arts community, but especially to those like me who faced the same or worse if we were caught by the wrong people.

The reference seemed a non sequitur, except in conjunction with the pun he'd made of my stage name. He knew. He _knew_ and he was blackmailing me, the bastard. How dared he?

No, of course he dared. He was gentry, if not outright nobility. I was nothing, an actress who wasn't even really an actress. But what could he possibly be blackmailing me _for_? I had no money at all, let alone any great wealth. Not even enough savings to purchase that flower arrangement, certainly not the necklace that had originally come with it. And if he knew my secret, he couldn't be hoping to blackmail me for sex.

"Ah, I've made you angry," he said, sounding bemused. "I'm still not being clear, I suppose. Forgive me, I'm far too used to being obscure on this subject. Speaking of it directly quite frankly gives me the vapours. I have a wife, of course, and she's a lovely woman. A better manager of my household I could not ask for, and she's an absolute marvel at dealing with society for the both of us. I've done my duty by her and by my family; we have a son to be my heir and a daughter to dote on. Aside from those few occasions, I have never shared her bed and have no desire to ever do so again. But that does not mean I am without desires entirely."

If he thought this was speaking of the matter with clarity, I shuddered to think of how twisted his conversations about it usually were. Assuming he had any at all, because if I was understanding his veiled references correctly, he wasn't threatening me with Oscar Wilde's fate. He feared it for himself.

Perhaps seeing the dawning realization in my eyes, he nodded. "So you can see where having a companion who outwardly appears to be everything society expects in a mistress to a man of my station, while in fact possessing the very traits my wife lacks to stir my desire, would be extremely beneficial to me."

A woman to all appearances, but a man between the sheets. Female on the outside, male on the inside. How ironic that it was exactly the opposite of the way I'd always thought of myself, as a man on the outside and a woman on the inside. 

Breathless, I laughed. I felt light enough to dance through the clouds. "And you concluded that I filled this need for you based on the pun my stage name creates? What if you'd been wrong?"

"Your outward persona is near perfect, but there are a few betraying factors," he said. "Your height, the build of your hands up close, the fact that you always wear a scarf around your neck. And, I will admit it, I bribed one of the stage hands quite outrageously to confirm it before I began my suit."

Overwhelmed, I turned away from him, bracing my hands against the edge of the vanity as I stared at myself in the mirror. It was too good to be true. There had to be a catch somewhere. Nothing in my life was ever this easy, this... perfect. True, I would be selling myself, but there was little shame in being one man's mistress. It wasn't as if I would be whoring myself out to anyone who could pay the price.

And god help me, I thought I might actually be able to love the man. I needn't even fear him tiring of me quickly, not when he must have searched for many years just to find one 'woman' who fit his criteria.

A rustle of fabric sounded behind me, and a moment later I felt the heat of him against my back. I was average height for a man, tall for a woman, but he stood nearly a full head taller than me. For the first time in my life I felt delicate, like a true lady. 

My eyes met his in the mirror, as he reached around to drape the ruby necklace at my throat. The gems shimmered and sparkled even in the dim light of the dressing room, and the red colour made the pale flesh of my décolletage seem rosy. Or perhaps that was the blush sweeping over my face and down my throat.

"What do you say, Miss Chase?" he murmured in my ear, smiling that wicked smile once more. "Will you allow the pursuit to come to a glorious end? Or will you continue to live up to your name?"

Reaching up with hands that shook only a little, I took the ends of the necklace from him and fastened it at the nape of my neck. Then I turned and lifted my arms to his neck, smiling up at him. The expression felt a little tremulous, but I was still in shock at my impossible good fortune.

"Why can't I do both?" I fairly purred. "You've caught me, but that doesn't mean I won't lead you on many a merry chase in the future." And if most of them ended in the bedroom, well, there were worse ways to end a hunt.


End file.
